


Take the biscuit

by Luven



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luven/pseuds/Luven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill to this prompt on the Almighty Johnsons Kink meme:</p>
<p>Zeb thought he'd seen all the surprises that the Johnsons could throw at him.</p>
<p>That was until he walked into Anders' apartment kitchen and met a vampire eating biscuits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jayeinacross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayeinacross/gifts).



> For linking me to the Almighty Johnsons Kink Meme.  
>  "Kerlemerle"

It starts with biscuits.

Anzac biscuits to be precise, and of course the half naked bloke they were steadily disappearing into.

The half naked bloke was rocking a hairy chest, neck mottled with love bites and his mouth smudged with something… _red_?

Naturally this is when the state of Anders’ apartment finally registers in Zeb’s mind. It looks like Zeb just walked straight into the set of a _fucking horror movie_.

Everything remotely moveable has been upturned; a chair knocked here and a vase broken over there, and everywhere there are smudges of blood.

The half naked bloke dips the current cookie in a glass of milk, and it hits Zeb like a freight train that the aforementioned smudges on his cheeks were blood too.

There are no lacerations on his body besides the shallow love bites on his neck, and the realization that Anders’ murder (probably) is sitting there snacking, jerks Zeb backwards into a shelf - and _of course_ on it there is a vase left unbroken.

It makes the biggest bang on impact with the ground, and when it shatters the room reverberates with it. This is so much worse than the time with those freaking psycho bitches, who wanted to neuter Anders. Like zillion times worse.

The guy’s head snaps up and he has the gall to smile at him - it’s the kind of smile that on any other occasion would have every spectator melt like putty. Instead, the blood on his face makes him look like Jack Nicholson had dropped in on the shooting of the Silence of the lambs and boinked Hannibal Lecter - or however fictional and non-fictional people go about it. _And behold_ : the love child of an at least NC-17 rated unholy union.

“Hi there!” the bloke greets, waving the cookie in a hello.

Zeb gulps, and manages to stutter out a “Hello,” and now when he’s talking he cannot seem to stop, “I’m just leaving, you see. Nice meeting you and all. Love what you have done with place. Very new and …red?”and that so not the thing to say.

The bloke’s eyes widen, as if he hadn’t seen the state of the place before now, and then they zone in on Zeb. Yeah, not the right thing say.

”Ehhh, bye,” Zeb squeaks, and starts for the door.

And he is so going to make it, because there is no way humanely possible to get from the kitchen island to between him and the door.

Of course he has not been operating within what is considered to be humanely possible for quite some time now, and he really should know by now that when the Johnsons were involved such concepts ceased temporarily to exist all together.

“I am very sorry,” the bloke says, now magically between him and the door. “but I cannot let you leave.”

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own anything.

Despite certain outrageous misconceptions about Zeb's mental capabilities, Zeb is not, in fact, a complete idiot. He knows that getting from the kitchen island to the door in literally a blink of an eye is way beyond Axl's occasional bursts of godly powers.

"Come on," says the half naked dude, and herds him back into the living room. He looks a bit sheepish; but only the kind of sheepish you look when your nipples have hickeys and you are parading around strangers in your briefs. Not the type of sheepish you should look when you are caught red handed at murder.

"Can't I just go?" Zeb asks with a squeak. "I mean, it's just interior change. It's not like I'm going to write an article for Design Folio about it."

His captor frowns at him, and the earlier Jack Nicholson comparison is totally spot on. The frown just takes over his whole face, in a pinched sort of look; that implies murdering him would be such a chore, before he throws his head back towards the bedroom, and calls out: "Anders!"

No one answers, but that is a no brainer. Nobody could survive/be okay after the kind of blood loss the apartment is exhibiting.

"Anders!" he tries again. His brows knit tightly together over a pair of chocolate brown eyes and his hands are twitching as they force Zeb down on the couch.

Then a: "Noooo!" comes wailing down the hallway. "Come back to bed!"

"We've encountered a slight problem," says _tall, dark and shady_. He has left Zeb on the couch to wander back to the kitchen island and retrieve the cookies.

"Yes, we've." it comes from the bedroom, and the voice, petulant and whiney, is definitely Anders'. "I was promised orgasms, as in many orgasm. Orgasm in the plural. And lo, the piker, has deserted my bed and I’m only counting one orgasm. One, as in orgasm in the singular.”

The bloke's ears burn red, and while his right hand flails awkwardly to the back of his head, the other hand holds the plate of cookies out to Zeb.

"Sorry," the bloke mouth - now suddenly bashful, before turning back to the bedroom. "Anders, we've a guest."

There comes a yelp from the bedroom as something or somebody - presumably Anders, tumbles to the ground. Then a "Wha-at?" comes, accompanied by the patter of bare feet and a much sharper "Who?"

The half naked bloke gives him an accusing look, as if it's Zeb's fault he hadn't introduced himself to his prospective murder.

"I'm Zeb," Zeb squeaks, as he is not the one to hold onto affronts in face of impending bodily harm.

"Nice meeting you," he says, his face crinkling up in a smile. Zeb, a bit dizzy by the mood swings, has to steel himself from melting like putty. It is like something out of a sci-fi movie; the ultimate smile of bedazzle, most supreme liquefier or _something_.

"It's Zeb!" _ultimate smile of bedazzle_ shouts out to Anders, because it’s unmistakably Anders standing there in the doorway.

**TBC**

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing here but the many atrocities against the English language, and I most certainly do not profit from them. On ao3 because tumblr is a bit beyond me these days.


End file.
